


A Resolution

by angstbot



Series: A Seduction [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Swen, swan queen - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstbot/pseuds/angstbot
Summary: What happened after Emma returned from the Enchanted Forest. The "A Seduction" sequel.





	A Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nrrdee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nrrdee/gifts).



> a very belated birthday gift for @Nrrdee

She could play this cool, Emma was sure. So what if they had hooked up when she was in the Enchanted Forest? Regina wasn’t going to remember, right? It was a different reality. Or it had been a long time ago. Or something. Whatever. There was really no reason to be anxious as she headed to the town party at Granny’s. Was there? It was fine.

The way Regina locked eyes on her the second she walked in and demanded, “Where have you been?” said maybe not.

Okay, she could answer that. “Um, so, things were, like, _happening_ at Zelena’s farm and I went to investigate and the portal was- open? And I got sucked through by accident. So- I was in the Enchanted Forest. In the past. You know. So.”

Regina’s eyebrows had been creeping steadily up her face as Emma talked, and she murmured, “So it’s real.”

Emma immediately decided to play dumb. “What is?”

Regina grabbed her by the arm with a strength that surprised her and hustled her outside. “I have a sudden memory of having sex with you before you were even born, Ms. Swan, and you have some explaining to do,” she hissed the second they were alone.

“That’s ridicu-”

“Don’t even try it.”

Emma sighed, stuck. “Yeah, it happened.”

“What the hell? Have you been harboring some _crush_ on me that you just had to go back in time to fulfil, Ms. Swan?”

Emma was reacting, half-shouting, “Don’t call me that!” before her brain could really process that there was something like interest underneath Regina’s sarcasm.

“Why not, _Ms. Swan_?” And there were Regina’s sharp edges to protect herself again, and damnit, she knew her. She really knew her.

“We’ve been through too much,” Emma said, fierce but quiet now.

“‘Too much,’ like orgasms?” Regina taunted.

Now she was angry all over again. “No, too much, like- stopping the trigger together and saving our son from Pan and defeating Zelena! But yeah, as a matter of fact, I think someone who’s come all over my face should probably call me by my first name!”

The door opened with a little tinkling of the bell. “Emma, honey? Is everything okay out here?” Snow asked, querulous. “I heard raised voices.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Emma said, turning to her with a fake smile instead of continuing to stare Regina down the way she wanted to, or else she’d never go away.

“Alright, well we’re about to have cake, and announce the baby’s name, so finish up quick if you can.”

Then she was gone and Emma turned her attention back to Regina, who was looking at her with an unreadable look on her face.

“What?” she demanded.

“It’s just very strange. I remember that party. You were _not_ there. But when you walked in tonight suddenly I remembered- something else.”

“And?” Emma prodded, then wondered what the hell she was thinking.

“And I can’t say it’s not a pleasant memory.”

Emma smiled and ducked her head out of reflex. “Thanks.”

“Emma?” David said, coming to the door. “We’re waiting on you. Both of you,” he added unconvincingly as he saw Regina.

“Yeah, ok,” Emma said, and took a few steps toward the door. “Talk more later?” she asked Regina.

“Count on it.”

**

Emma didn’t avoid Regina, exactly. There was just a lot of cleanup that needed to happen after defeating Zelena, and her parents had a brand new baby and needed help, and sheriffing needed to happen, and whatever. There was a lot going on. It was reasonable to not get a chance to sit down and have a chat about “So you came all over my face thirty years ago, how ‘bout that?”

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t really tempted to duck out of Granny’s when she saw Regina approach her. Because she really, really was.

“Ms. Swan,” Regina greeted.

Emma sighed. Regina never could make things easy.

But then Regina was sliding into the booth across from her, a contemplative expression on her face.

“What?” she asked tentatively, afraid to get another ‘Ms. Swan.’

“You treated me like a person,” Regina murmured, voice full of wonder. “I remembered it forcefully all of a sudden with you looking up at me. I wasn’t the Evil Queen to you.”

“Never have been,” she affirmed with a little smile.

“Come to dinner,” Regina said, abruptly businesslike again.

Emma blinked. “Uh, ok.”

“As a date,” Regina clarified. “Henry will be home but-”

“Wow, you’re not beating around the bush,” Emma said. At Regina’s furrowed brow, she quickly clarified, “Not that I don’t like it!”

Regina’s smile became positively evil. “No shrubbery, dear. Magic is a very useful thing.” Emma knew she’d only said it to throw her off balance, but that didn’t stop her from gaping like a landed fish as Regina got up. “Seven. Bring wine and dessert.”

**

Emma had been nervous walking up to Regina’s house before—taking Henry home when he’d come to find her in Boston, when she’d asked whether Regina loved him, when she’d come to tell Regina she was leaving town, when she’d come to confront her over Archie’s apparent death—but this was a whole new level. It was scarier, somehow, than waiting for the murderous Evil Queen buck naked had been. Her stomach was doing somersaults and her mouth was dry and her hands were trembling holding the most expensive wine and finest apple tart Storybrooke’s lone grocery could muster.

She had just reached the porch and realized she hadn’t left herself a hand to knock with when the door flew open.

Emma breathed a little sigh of relief that it was Henry. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hi,” he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” she prompted.

“How did Mom know you’d be out here and not have a free hand to knock with?” He was awed.

Frankly, so was Emma, even if it was probably just deductive reasoning. “If there’s one thing I know, Henry, it’s never to underestimate your mom. Here, take this pie before I drop it, will you?”

**

Dinner had gone sort of shockingly well, Emma mused as she washed dishes. Regina had a dishwasher, of course, but with fancy cookware some things had to be done by hand, and she had insisted since Regina did the cooking.

Wow had Regina done the cooking. Emma had realized a little too late that her moans of enjoyment about the lasagna were probably not suitable family-dinner responses, but Henry’s suppressed giggle and the twinkle in Regina’s eye had been worth the embarrassment.

But the best part had come during dessert, when she’d awkwardly tried to make conversation with, “I hope the tart is okay.”

Regina had dryly retorted, “Some of us can appreciate something without alerting everyone within earshot, dear,” and Emma had raised an eyebrow because she remembered Regina vocally appreciating something else. Regina had blushed.

Emma smirked to herself and reached for a wine glass. It slipped in her soapy fingers, and she grabbed for it with both hands, fumbling impressively and juggling it for several seconds before losing it completely off the edge of the counter. She made one last desperate grab for it and trapped it between her hand and the cabinet, only to immediately smash it.

“Shit! Shit-shit-shit,” she hissed under her breath, looking around desperately for a rag or something to get the pieces off the floor. Of-fucking-course she’d ruined one of Regina’s wine glasses. Because this evening was going much too well to last.

“Emma?”

“Regina, I’m so sorry. I broke a glass. I’ll clean it up. I’ll replace it. I-”

“Emma, you’re bleeding.”

That would explain the pain in her hand. “I’ll clean that up too, I swear, I-”

“Emma, I don’t care about the kitchen,” Regina said, exasperated, stepping closer and wrapping gentle fingers around her wrist. “I care about _you_.”

Startled, Emma looked up and met her eyes, finding them caring even as her mouth quirked in a wry smile.

“And not because I have plans for this hand, although I might,” she said, and Emma knew she was both deflecting and telling the truth.

Regina’s eyes dropped to her hand. “Fortunately the cut isn’t too deep, and none of the glass is lodged in it. Easy to heal.”

“Easy to-” Emma started to ask, only to stop when she saw the purple glow of magic around her hand. It pulled at something deep inside her—her own magic, maybe—and tingled along her skin like arousal and felt so much like _Regina_ that she gasped.

Their eyes locked, and then she was leaning in and kissing Regina before she even made a decision. It was tentative at first, but then felt so familiar that they fell into it, one kiss becoming two, the bare meeting of lips becoming insistent presses, closed mouths opening and tongues finding each other.

It was the sound of glass crunching beneath shoes as they moved closer together that snapped them out of it.

“I’ll clean that up,” Emma said, again, immediately. “And my blood on the floor.”

“Let’s not endanger your hand again,” Regina shot back, stroking an electric fingertip from her wrist to her palm. She waved at the mess and it disappeared.

“Because you have plans for it?” Emma asked, not sure if she was teasing or hopeful.

Emma couldn’t read Regina’s raised eyebrow and it made her start babbling. “I just, I know it’s our first date and maybe we shouldn’t, but we _have_ before, and it was _fantastic_ but also- you _know_ me now. Like, it’s _us_ now and I didn’t realize how much I wanted that until the kissing, but maybe it’s not special enough to- you know- just like that, and-”

Regina’s lips pressed sweetly against hers shut her up. Then she murmured, “Take me to bed.”

**

It wasn’t that simple, of course. They had to make sure that Henry went to bed by 9:30 like he was supposed to, reminding him that 12 year olds still need 9 hours of sleep and he knew what time school started and could do the math. He grumbled, but not too much because he knew they were right that he hated it in the morning when he stayed up later. They tucked him in together and each kissed him goodnight, which had been known to happen when Emma stayed for a drink and a chat after dinner but felt bigger tonight when she was starting- _something_ \- with Regina.

The way they stood awkwardly in the hallway outside Henry’s door after closing it told her Regina felt it too. But then Emma realized this sense of balancing on the edge of something was familiar, and suddenly she knew just what to do, slipping her hand into Regina’s and pulling her gently toward her bedroom like she’d guided her to bed once before, and a slow smile began on Regina’s face as she recognized it too.

Entering the bedroom— _Regina’s_ bedroom—Emma felt her confidence waver just a bit and tried to remember what it had felt like to just go for it back when Regina had been the queen. She brought her hand up and kissed the palm, and Regina’s smile grew at this echo of their previous encounter. She made it two kisses up her wrist before Regina slipped her hand out of her grasp. She didn’t have enough time to worry before both hands found her cheeks and guided her up for a kiss.

“As equals,” Regina murmured.

Emma understood, though she pointed out, “I can adore your body as your equal.”

“Please,” she whispered, and Emma’s heart ached for her.

“You’re just a person,” she murmured as she kissed along her jaw. “Just Regina. A wonderful person I like a lot.” She felt the stiffness leave Regina’s body and pulled her closer.

Regina kissed her again and Emma remembered what she’d learned by meeting her in the past: that her sharp edges were the defense mechanisms of someone who craved love, that she pretended to be sexually aggressive to protect herself, that under the armor was softness--and a steel backbone. She kept their kisses light and ran her hands over Regina’s body slow and easy as she walked them gradually across the floor to the bed.

When she reached it, uncertainty swept over her again and she pulled back to look at Regina. Give her a situation where her bed partner might decide to kill her, and she was fearless. Put her face to face with _feelings_ and forget it.

“I’m not going to break,” Regina snarked. She raised a challenging eyebrow, kicked off her shoes, and laid on the bed.

“Of course not,” Emma replied, instead of, Yes you could, and so could I.

She took a deep breath, remembering that just a few moments ago this had been easy. This had been going to bed a second time with somebody familiar. It had been making out with a dear friend who was becoming more. It had been _her_ and _Regina_. She smiled.

Then she sat down on the edge of the bed to take her boots off, silently cursing herself for wearing the ones that laced instead of zipped.

Regina laughed out loud. “You _would._ ”

“Sure would,” Emma grumbled.

Regina sat up and came over beside her, then wrapped around her from behind and pressed against her back. Emma relaxed just a little.

She had gotten one boot off and was half way through the second when her heart rate sped up again for another reason—Regina was kissing along her jaw and neck. It was easy and slow and almost absent-minded, but it was also _Regina_ doing it and god, she wanted her.

When the second boot was finally off, she turned her head and met Regina’s lips, and yes, this.

Moving up onto the bed together felt easy as breathing now, her body pressing on top of Regina’s and the two of them fitting together perfectly.

It didn’t take long before their kisses intensified and their hips started rocking together and their hands started pulling at each other’s’ clothes. They could have stripped by magic, of course. Emma was pretty sure even _she_ could handle that. But it felt right to do it by hand, taking turns peeling out of layers and kissing the skin that was revealed, getting to know each other in a way they hadn’t before.

When Regina’s bra came off, Emma lingered on her breasts, kissing and nuzzling and cupping them and stroking her thumbs across her nipples. She had started sucking when Regina cleared her throat—then laughed when Emma tilted her head to look up at her without releasing the nipple.

“You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, stroking her cheek.

“You have great boobs,” Emma muttered back, muffled.

“I have great a lot of things,” Regina pointed out dryly.

Emma had a sudden memory of going down on Regina during her trip to the past and moaned around the nipple in her mouth, “Fuck, yes, you do.”

She started kissing down her stomach and unbuttoning her slacks. Regina raised an eyebrow, but then she stroked her cheek and hair and let her take them off, and her underwear too—and Emma couldn’t help grinning a little because indeed there was no shrubbery. Then Regina waved her hand and Emma felt a chill because her remaining clothes were gone now too.

“That’s better,” Regina murmured, looking at her.

“And equal,” Emma said, grinning up at her. But when she gripped Regina’s hips and lowered her mouth to taste all she could do was roll her eyes back in her head and moan.

It was impossible that going down on her would be better than it had been before. And yet it _was_ , because she was so slick and hot under Emma’s tongue, because of the way she hissed encouragement, but most importantly because it was them—enemies turned friends turned lovers, and feeling _Regina_ respond to her touches was so good.

But she remembered that Regina was uneasy with worship, so she interspersed easy strokes of her tongue with stroking her cheek on one upraised thigh and smiling up at her, and Regina’s hand cupping her face told her it was appreciated.  

Gradually she started fluttering her tongue faster, listening to Regina’s breathing and feeling her fingertips pressing harder against the back of her head to know when to give her more, to flick, to swirl, to suck. And when she saw Regina’s other hand flail a bit out of the corner of her eye, she reached up and gripped it, fingers intertwined to anchor them both.

“Emma,” Regina said, breathy, gripping her hair hard in one hand and her hand hard in the other. “Yes- Em- more- like that- right there- yes- don’t stop- Emma- my Emma- Em-”

Emma stayed with her, giving her more, right there, not stopping, everything she gasped out in disjointed words.

Then Regina was coming, tensing and shuddering and moaning from deep in her chest.

Emma stayed with her through that, too, coaxing out every bit of pleasure with her tongue until Regina pushed at her head to make her stop and then pulled her up, not quite gently, to kiss.

Emma was suddenly aware of Regina’s fingers, then, as they rested on her cheeks. They seemed delicate—long and slender. But she also remembered that they were dexterous and forceful when they wanted to be, whether cooking or doing magic or fucking her silly thirty-odd years ago.

As if reading her mind, in the next moment Regina was sliding one hand down her neck, over her shoulder and down to palm a breast, then coaxing Emma over onto her back to give herself more room to explore.

When Regina scraped her teeth down over her collarbone and sternum to bite and suck at a nipple, Emma let out a low groan.

“Fuck, so good.”

Regina’s little delighted chuckle was almost evil as she switched sides, her mouth hot and hungry and her fingers demanding on the nipple she had just left. Emma lost herself in how good she felt for a bit, but then she was cupping her face in both hands and coaxing her up to press on top, murmuring “Closer.”

“Closer like inside?” Regina asked, and her hand was sliding down between her legs now to cup and squeeze and her fingertips were teasing at Emma’s entrance.

“God, yes,” Emma hissed.

Regina was inside her almost before she’d finished the word, slipping in easily because she was so, so wet. Then they were kissing again, deep and slow like Regina’s fingers were moving inside her deep and slow.

First two fingers and then three, Regina filled her perfectly, and Emma reveled in her weight on top of her, adoring the scent of her hair falling around her face. As she felt her orgasm building, she clutched at her, wrapping her arms and legs around her, needing her close-closer-closest. Regina just kept stroking her, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw and neck now to let her breathe and moan and gasp and plead for “Regina, Regina, please, just like that, make me come, wanna come for you.”

Then she did, muffling her scream against Regina’s shoulder.

Emma was feeling hot and sweaty and breathless, so Regina rolling off to lay beside her felt okay. But after a couple of moments to cool off she missed her, and rolled to drape partly over Regina and kiss her sweetly.

Or, at least, try to. Regina lay stiffly, with a barely contained energy underneath.

“Regina?” she asked tentatively.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Swan,” she said, as if Emma were dropping her off at her doorstep after a date.

“You’re welcome- um- do you not want me to touch you?”

“You should do what you want. There’s no obligation”

“Obliga- Regina,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow to look her in the eye. Or try to. Regina turned away. Emma caught her chin in gentle fingers and coaxed her back. “Regina, look at me. What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“No, you’re wonderful. Too wonderful.”

Emma was baffled. “Too wonderful for what?”

“For me.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I think you’re pretty wonderful too”

“No,” Regina said immediately.

“Yeah,” Emma insisted.

“You can’t,” she murmured.

“Says who?”

“Who could think that about me?”

Emma’s heart broke for her, and she gathered her up in her arms, stiffness and all. “I could. I do. You matter so much to me.”

“For Henry,” she said bitterly.

“No, for you. Regina, you’re my best friend. You’re important to me and I care about you and even if you don’t- if you want this to be a one-time thing, I’m not going anywhere as your friend.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Want this to be a one-time thing. I just-” she was silent for a long, long time, and Emma just held her and didn’t push.

Finally, she said, “I told Henry once that I don’t know how to love very well. Not that it’s love after two rounds of good sex, but-”

“Two rounds of good sex and solid friendship,” Emma pointed out, but then she agreed, “Yes, it’s too early to talk about love. But I like the idea that it might get late enough to talk about it someday.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

The tension finally left Regina’s body. “Me too.”


End file.
